


Successive Approximations

by Fluffifullness



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Durarara!! Kink Meme, Explicit Sexual Content, Izuo - Freeform, M/M, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffifullness/pseuds/Fluffifullness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good enough, he decides, to warrant a little flexibility, and hell if he hasn’t wondered once or twice what it might be like to let Izaya wrest control from him for a night. His cocky grins, shameless lust, mischievous glints in dark eyes – no, it might not be bad at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Successive Approximations

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [kink meme](http://drrrkink.livejournal.com/6253.html?thread=22812013#t22812013).

Shizuo has to take a long moment to calm himself down before he can so much as make a move to answer the knocking at his door. Every new burst of sound – a mark of impatience, the threat of departure before Shizuo can get there – sets his heart racing faster; by the time he finally steps forward to greet his guest, he’s consciously struggling to slow the quick in-and-out of his breathing.

It’s Izaya, of course – smiling, rocking back onto his heels and looking just as totally composed as ever Izaya. Shizuo’s sure that the flea’s already noticed the strong aroma of dinner cooking on the stove, and he remembers only after several beats of silence that he’s still wearing his old apron – white, stained in a few places and a little worn at the edges, but he likes it, really can’t imagine cooking without it.

Izaya’s grin widens the moment he notices the thing.

“You’re early,” Shizuo acknowledges as an embarrassed flush warms his cheeks. He’s sort of annoyed, he thinks – should be, anyway, or at the very least it wouldn’t be _too_ unfair to be a little pissed off by the unvoiced ridicule – but he steps aside nevertheless to let the informant inside.

Because, after all, Shizuo’s always ready and waiting for Izaya _hours_ before he’s supposed to come. That’s why he’s not exactly unhappy with the early arrival in itself – not that he’d ever admit that to Izaya, of course, and not that Izaya would ever be likely to ask him about it.

Still, it’s… puzzling.

Izaya chuckles, apparently taking notice of – and enjoying – his host’s bewilderment, and then he turns to catch Shizuo’s hand in his own. “You were carrying ingredients for curry earlier, weren’t you? How about sharing some with your guest?”

Dammit. Damn flea. Damn the way Shizuo’s pulse is hammering right where Izaya can feel it, the additional laughter and the being pulled into the kitchen by the guy he’s gone completely out of his way to prepare for.

Izaya sees the two plates, two spoons and enough curry to feed five or more – and laughs again. “Do you do this often, Shizu-chan?”

“…You said you were coming,” Shizuo mutters lamely as he takes up the wooden spoon he’s been using to stir the just-about-finished potful of food. “So it’s just in case, I guess.”

Izaya hums – long and low and content in a way that never fails to remind Shizuo of a cat’s purring. He’s smiling like one, too – a cat, that is, lazy and just about ready for a meal – but of course with Izaya the expression’s never quite that innocent.

It’s a sarcastic acceptance of Shizuo’s words, after all, a muted acknowledgment of the details, the little-more-to-it that Shizuo prefers not to state outright. Izaya’s gotten pretty good at registering those little things – _reading_ you, Shizu-chan, he’s always gloating – and he likes to make it implicitly clear that he’s seen right through the blonde.

“Nice gesture,” he murmurs into the back of his lover’s neck.

 

It’s good.

Izaya says it condescendingly as he leans forward to drink in the timid widening of the blonde’s eyes, but for all of that he still means it. Shizuo can tell – that’s why he reacts the way he does, hand tightening about his spoon so that it actually bends a bit away from him, fingers trembling slightly and nervous fidgeting.

He can’t help it; this is their first time actually eating together.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. He can feel his cheeks heating up all over again, and the amusement showing clearly in Izaya’s eyes isn’t helping a damn thing.

Izaya’s demeanor loses some of its harsher edge as he takes another bite. “Could be spicier, don’t you think?”

“I don’t like spicy food,” Shizuo admits.

“What’s that about?” Izaya wonders, laughing. “You really are like a kid.”

“Thought I was supposed to be a monster…”

His tone is far more heavily bitter than he’d intended it to be. He’s cutting it a little too close to what he actually feels, now, and it’s clear that Izaya’s heard that, too.

That little wish of his, that _won’t he ever change his mind?_

He expects Izaya to smirk up at him – _not likely, Shizu-chan,_ and _of course you are –_ but the informant’s smile only grows softer by degrees as he lays his spoon down beside his plate. “Yeah,” he agrees slowly, “you are, but…”

Shizuo nearly chokes on a mouthful of food when he catches that last word. “B-but…?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Izaya complains, suddenly and obviously embarrassed. “I just meant that I could like you – take an interest in you, that is – almost as much as a normal human.” He laughs as his own face turns a light shade of pink; on Izaya, it’s oddly endearing.

Shizuo’s sure that the same couldn’t be said of himself.

Izaya continues, illustrates his words with hand gestures and – “You know – because you’re Shizu-chan. It’s like being an honorary human. As a monster, you should really consider yourself lucky.”

“Great,” Shizuo murmurs without much enthusiasm. He’s working hard to hide the soft glow of satisfaction – _progress,_ he thinks, like maybe they’re both changing little by little, like maybe Izaya really sees him as special and comes to visit again and again because Shizuo is more than just a tool or a monster. “Which means… what, exactly?”

His chest feels like it might burst.

“How rude,” Izaya sulks. “And here I was trying to make you feel a bit better – ungrateful idiot.”

“You’re the ingrate,” Shizuo retorts – almost cheerful, almost too grateful for words. “Who made dinner tonight, huh?”

Izaya smiles faintly, speaks abstractedly. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll return that favor at some point, ne?”

 

They finish eating in relative silence, then, because what can either of them say to alleviate the quiet awkwardness of that – the interactions more intimate than petty physicalities, more telling than quick, sloppy fucks and races through the city?

Shizuo wonders if it’s inevitable, after all, if it’s always been inevitable or if that’s just a recent development. Whose fault are the emotions, or are they both guilty by association?

He climbs to his feet first, chair scraping the floor as he wordlessly collects both their dishes and turns to carry them to the sink.

“Let me top tonight.”

Shizuo stops mid-stride. “You? You mean… you want me to…”

“I want you to bottom, Shizu-chan.”

The blonde swallows hard as his cheeks darken for what he thinks might be the third – fourth, fifth? – time within the span of a few hours. “Why…?”

Izaya grins. “Because you’re like that, of course.”

Shizuo doesn’t know what he means. His personality shouldn’t be anything too terrible – better than Izaya’s, anyway – and sure, maybe it’s odd for him to be so shy behind closed doors, but that’s because he can’t get used to Izaya’s presence, Izaya all kinds of bright and breathing hard beneath him when not too long ago all of that – the sweat, the taut muscles and tangled limbs – would have seemed completely impossible.

Not too long ago, they were just as completely at odds as ever.

And – well, sometimes Shizuo worries that he’ll lose control just a little too thoroughly. He’s usually rough, of course, and Izaya’s more than okay with that. He’s a masochistic bastard, anyway, but even he’s fragile and Shizuo’s strength isn’t anything to be taken lightly.

“Did I hurt you – last time?” he wonders aloud.

Izaya laughs. “Why would you assume that, Shizu-chan? I’m just sick to death of letting you have all the fun~!”

“I… honestly don’t give a fuck about that...”

Izaya ignores Shizuo’s weak attempt at belligerence, smirks and – “If you don’t care, then what are we still standing around here talking for? I wouldn’t have guessed that you so enjoyed having conversations with me.”

 _That_ forces Shizuo to pause and consider, because, well, yeah – they’ve done an unusual lot of talking this time around, and somehow it’s all managed to put him in a fairly good mood.

Good enough, he decides, to warrant a little flexibility, and hell if he hasn’t wondered once or twice what it might be like to let Izaya wrest control from him for a night. His cocky grins, shameless lust, mischievous glints in dark eyes – no, it might not be bad at all.

“Fine,” he agrees, and he makes sure to sound properly reluctant even as Izaya takes him by the hand again and leads him jubilantly into his own bedroom.

 

“Relax,” Izaya chides softly. His lips are too close, too close, and Shizuo tries to save at least some of his dignity be raising himself up onto his elbows to steal a kiss with some force. He barely bothers with that flushed skin – soft and hot and maybe a little chapped – before slipping his tongue into the informant’s mouth and tracing the contours of his tongue and teeth before Izaya can even think to meet him halfway.

“I can’t,” he grunts in the breathing-hard of breaking away. “Dammit.”

“You can,” Izaya says easily – whispers it, actually, into the curve of Shizuo’s neck before leaning in to nibble again at the skin there. It honestly feels like the touch is spreading, tingling, all the way up and down from that single point on Shizuo’s body. He’s never as gentle with Izaya as Izaya is being with him, now, and he knows that he doesn’t have half the finesse, either.

Still, he can’t help hoping that Izaya feels the same way when their positions are switched.

“Wh-what are you waiting for, then?” Shizuo growls sharply. He doesn’t particularly care that he’s directly contradicting himself, either, because Izaya’s hands are already lube-slicked, cold and tracing the rise and fall of Shizuo’s chest. He’s turned on and needy and he’s never been fucked by anyone – just the other way around, because it’s easier and a habit that keeps him well within his comfort zone – so he’s more than a little apprehensive, sure, but _fuck._

“Now he _wants_ it,” Izaya purrs. Slow smirk – “Should I oblige you, after all? Shizu-chan is looking very teasable at the moment...”

“Dammit, Izaya –”

“Sure, sure,” Izaya laughs. “Spread your legs a little wider” – he reaches down to move them himself, and his fingers actually slip a little so that Shizuo can feel long lines of wet-cool on the insides of his thighs – “and take a deep breath – not that deep, Shizu-chan,” he laughs.

“I’m just fucking breathing,” Shizuo complains, “and what the hell ever happened to – ngh – to calling me by my name?” He refrains from calling Izaya a flea just then, of course, because hypocrisy is damn annoying under most circumstances.

 _“Shizuo,”_ Izaya breathes, taunting. “But tonight _you’re_ bottoming, which gives me the right to call you whatever I want.”

Shizuo doesn’t quite follow Izaya’s reasoning, but of course that’s probably just because there _isn’t any_ underlying the teasing lilt of Izaya’s voice turned seductive, smooth velvet and a breezily husky.

That voice – damn it, damn Izaya and his dark hair dark eyes dark everything and the way he smiles at Shizuo like he’s going to take incredibly good care of him – keeps the blonde from protesting the cold press of Izaya’s pointer finger against the outer rim of his hole – and he shudders as his cock jerks appreciatively.

“Damn,” he murmurs.

“Has the change of pace made you extra sensitive, _Shizu-chan?”_

“Shut up,” Shizuo grunts, and there’s that undeniable tug and the weight of heat wound all about his lower body. It teases its way up to his throat and settles there so that the next sound he makes is a loud moan – and all because of two fingers, wriggling about to stroke inside of him and the lewd, wet sounds as Shizuo grunts and twitches and presses his head back into the pillows behind him.

Turns his face to the side and groans at the cold – it’s so _fucking cold_ , like ten times as much as what it feels like to the outside of his body.

“Like that, huh?” Izaya rests his left hand on the blonde’s knee, white-knuckled and twitching in synch with every half-thrust-reluctant-and-eager of Shizuo’s hips, the canting up and into the informant’s touch. He moves his hand as Shizuo moans and feels himself relaxing into the scissoring of Izaya’s fingers, the stretching much less painful now that he’s vaguely accustomed to the sensation.

“Yeah – ah – ” Shizuo groans. “M-more – aaah – p-please…”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Izaya laughs. Shizuo mewls very much more loudly than he would’ve liked as his body immediately registers the loss of Izaya’s fingers inside of him – and _fuck_ does he need Izaya, all of him all at once and right away. The good feeling of this is completely different from fucking Izaya – it’s more personal, more like he’s entrusting the flea with something.

He wonders how Izaya was ever able to let himself be given the very same treatment – back then, that is, back when they were fucking out of hate and anger and a different spin on drunken violence.

Back when they could really still call it fucking, before it started to become something a little different.

Izaya enters him all at once, stiff and hot and quick, and Shizuo’s toes dig into the soft white of rumpled sheets and the comforter that’s been shoved back to rest near the foot of the bed. His cheeks heat up incredibly – as if they hadn’t been red enough to begin with, he thinks, but that’s dwarfed by the need for movement and – “G-go fast, Iza – Izaya.” – he grinds down onto the informant’s cock with enough force to elicit a low moan.

Izaya complies right away, balls-deep in Shizuo – Shizuo with his chest glistening, legs splayed and eyes wide to take in every shift of emotion on the informant’s face. He’s staring up at him, and – despite the feverish pace of his thrusting in and out, friction hot and wet and Shizuo’s never _ever_ felt anything quite like it – he can see Izaya’s eyes widen, mouth open and little extra shivers running sporadically up and down the curve of his back.

He’s _beautiful sexy adorable_ like that, Shizuo thinks, and he’s never looked quite the same, either. Usually there are tears stinging in his eyes, half-lidded and sometimes angry. More often than not in some kind of pain, and the special impassioned glint that comes with that. He always tries to look like he’s somehow in control, but only now is he really and truly setting the pace for both of them.

It shows. He makes sure that it does – grinning, he stops moving long enough to cup Shizuo’s face in one hand while the other teases the sensitive flesh of his balls, the throbbing heat at the base of his cock – and Shizuo moans submissively. He knows that Izaya can see that conflict in his eyes, the wanting Izaya to keep playing with him, dragging out soft moans and whimpers. The equally strong desire for haste, motion and the swell of feeling that comes with being touched where it feels best.

The informant laughs breathlessly. “What do you want, Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo opens his mouth – hot breath streaming past his parted lips – but he can’t find the words or the air that would allow him to voice them.

He can’t _think,_ dammit.

Izaya waits.

Dammit. Fuck, Izaya. Fucking something – anything, feeling, climax – “You…”

That’s it.

Izaya’s eyes flutter shut as his back arches and he throws himself into Shizuo – jarring impacts in rapid succession, the entire bed rocking and Shizuo cursing and squeezing his eyes shut only to open them again moments later. He calls – shouts, whispers, moans – Izaya’s name and Izaya does the same in turn, long garbled sounds and pleas for more, faster, harder, _don’t tense up now, I’ll come – Shizu-chan…_

It goes on like that until Izaya finally grinds down on his partner’s prostate – hard, a forward thrust built up with all the strength Izaya barely has, and he shudders and finds his release with a long moan and his hands tightening on Shizuo’s hips.

The look on his face, then – totally content, free of pretentiousness and all the less-than-desirable traits – all lies, all masks, and Shizuo’s only just started to understand that – that make Izaya _Izaya_ – combined with the physical pleasure, the cum dripping from Shizuo’s hole on down his legs and the fucking heat and waves of undiluted lust throws Shizuo over the edge. He comes to soak his own stomach with a strangled shout.

Izaya separates himself from Shizuo moments later and without warning. More cum follows his cock out and onto the sheets. Shizuo grunts softly and pulls himself upright as he brings his legs a little closer together.

He wants to say something, but he can’t seem to find the words to convey what that was – “Nice,” he mumbles after a long pause. “It was… nice.”

Izaya stifles a short laugh and curls up beside the blonde – another new gesture, no standing to stretch and gather up discarded clothes. No shower and an early departure, click of a door slipping shut and vacuumous silence after that. “Nice? Try to be a little more trite, Shizu-chan.”

The blonde frowns back at his lover. “Fuck that,” he decides.

Izaya ignores him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Shizu-chan actually really likes bottoming.”

“L-like I said, it wasn’t… terrible.”

“You should have seen your face,” Izaya chuckles. “You’re still drooling, you know.”

Shizuo wipes hastily at the trail of saliva on his chin, blushing furiously all over again. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Damn Izaya. Damn the way he makes Shizuo feel, the power he has over him and the fact that neither of them can seem to help changing their routine again and again – until someday, Shizuo thinks hopes wishes and maybe they’ll really reach it then –

– successive approximations of real, normal love and the relationship Shizuo yearns to have.

Izaya trails his fingers through Shizuo’s hair and sighs contentedly.

“Thanks, Shizu-chan,” he breathes.

Shizuo nods, smiles.

“Yeah.”


End file.
